


until

by interstellarstrut



Category: Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry
Genre: Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 08:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16193492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarstrut/pseuds/interstellarstrut
Summary: a nightmare, a memory, a soft night.happy umineko day.





	until

**Author's Note:**

> i need,,, soft willion so im delivering it myself, i guess. 
> 
> title was the name of the google doc this was written in, which i normally change when i post. it came to mind from the song shelter, where the last line is 'and i know i'm not alone, you'll be watching over us until...' and it just. seemed fitting, somehow. i've grown endeared to it even though it doesn't quite fit the fic itself. i hope you don't mind that.

The darkness of a large room is not exactly the most comforting thing to wake up to.

Lion managed to not fling themself upright when they awoke, instead lying still on their side, hand clutched over their chest as it had been in their dream. They take a steadying breath, feel their heart for one, two, three beats, then let it out and release the front of their shirt. Their eyes are adjusting to the dark, and they can see the outlines of the dresser, nightstand, and door.

No glowing green eyes to be found.

They take another deep breath, and a dead weight drops onto their side. It nearly scares them out of their skin, but it’s soon followed by Will pressing his forehead against their back. Lion fumbles for his hand, now draped across their stomach.

“Why are you awake?” It all comes out in a sigh. They must not have been as discreet with their sudden awakening as they thought.

“Why are _you_ awake?” They fire back, but let out a long exhale and squeeze his hand. “Bad dream.”

“‘s just a dream, Lion. Go back to sleep.”

“It’s _not_ just a dream, though.” They let go and roll over to face him. Will blinks blearily at them, his usual sour expression present. They prop themself up on one arm and reach for his hand again, playing with his fingers. “It’s a memory.”

Dulled by sleep, it takes a moment for him to catch up with what they mean. He stares down at their hands, Lion moving each finger in no discernable pattern.

A hand he came extremely, uncomfortably close to not having.

In fact, one he _didn’t_ have for all of an hour.

He looks back to Lion before the memory sweeps him up entirely. “By definition, that’s something that happened in the past. There’s no sense dwelling on it. We’re both fine.”

“It’s scary,” they murmur, almost too quiet for him to hear. Then, louder, “I just don’t like it.”

“Never said you had to.”

They don’t respond — of course he’s right, but he doesn’t have to be so _blunt_ about it, but of course he is, he’s Willard — and focus on their movements instead. They think he’s fallen back asleep after a few minutes, but then he opens his hand and takes theirs; probably just tired with Lion’s incessant motion, but a comforting move nonetheless. They drop their head back to the pillow and snuggle closer to him, and Will pulls his free arm around them. Both of them know they can’t sleep like this; Will doesn’t stay in the same position for more than an hour, and Lion gets hot all too quickly. But for right now, they don’t want to be any way else, leaning their head against his chest and feeling his heart steadily beat.

“That’s when I learned you aren’t just some Ushiromiya brat, you know,” he says.

They scoff into his shirt. “I was crying. And I didn’t do anything but that. That’s pretty bratty, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, I’m not asking. I’m telling.” He threads his fingers through their hair, and whatever tension that was left in Lion’s muscles drops. “You kept telling me to leave you there. Absolutely selfish, by the way, I’d never be able to live with the knowledge that I basically killed you. But that… takes guts, Lion. It was clear how scared you were, but you kept trying to be brave. And that’s a special kind of brave.”

“It wasn’t _brave_ ,” they mutter, and shrink closer against him when they feel tears pricking their eyes. “You were going to die. You would’ve died, had Lambdadelta not showed up. That was a situation you were never supposed to be in, let alone get killed in. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“So you were going to take on the familiars by yourself — what do you call that?”

“Idiocy,” they reply sharply. “Desperation.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, yeah, but you’re forgetting a main one.”

They don’t trust their voice to respond without cracking, so they don’t. Lion lets go of his hand again in favor of wrapping their arms around his neck, stretching out their legs to lay beside his.

“I mean it,” he says softly, not really expecting them to answer.

A realization jolts through Lion. “You almost died.”

“We’ve covered that.”

“No, I mean — how?”

“What? What do you mean, ‘how?’” He taps his fingers against their back, unsure if he should be concerned or amused.

“How can _you_ die? You’re already an angel,” they say.

He makes some noncommittal noise. “So was Ronald Knox. I had my damn arm ripped off; we’re not untouchable.”

They wince at the memory. “Mother raised me Catholic. I’m used to the idea that when you die, you become an angel. It never crossed my mind that you could die _after_ you’re an angel, too.”

“Sorry, I’m probably a hell of a disappointment from the angels you initially envisioned.”

Lion drops an arm to pinch his ass without hesitation.

“Ow-ow-ow! Okay, fine! A simple ‘no’ would suffice!”

They roll onto their back with a laugh, shifting away to let Will reclaim his arm before scooting close again. “You’re not a disappointment. Until you try to cook.”

“Excuse you, I can make some grade-a noodles,” he huffs.

“Noodles I made when I was ten years old.” They flick their eyes over to him, a teasing grin to go with his indignant frown. “I don’t know how much of it I believed, anyways.”

“But you’ve had some of it proved true.”

“Some. Existence of angels, though not what I expected. But the idea of God: a big man in the sky who sees everything you do, ready to exert divine punishment — it feels a lot like the tales of Beatrice that Grandmother apparently told the family, in… all of those other fragments. ‘Don’t go in the woods, or the witch will get you!’” A frown crosses their face, “Though I suppose she was right, in some ways.”

“There’s no wrong way to believe in something. You can still believe in a god, or several, if it brings you comfort. If not, then have belief in yourself.”

They reach out and tap his nose. “I believe in you.”

He opens his mouth, but no words come out — clearly not expecting that response. Once again, Lion has rendered The Great Wright speechless. With a laugh, they lean over and rest their forehead against his. As the silence between them grows, Lion feels the threads of sleep wrapping back around them. Will must feel it, too, as he presses a kiss to their head and lets go of them. He rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes and rolls to his other side.

“Goodnight, Lion. Don’t have any more bad dreams.”

“That’s not something I can control, Willard.”

He grunts and flaps his hand, as if that’s supposed to mean something. Lion smiles and pulls the blankets tighter around them.

“Goodnight, Will.”


End file.
